Harder and Harder to Breathe
by NowhereRd06
Summary: Kurt doesn't realize how bad things have gotten until he almost ends it all one night. **Trigger warnings: suicidal thoughts


The first time Kurt calls the hotline, it's an act of desperation; his hands are shaking so badly that he almost miss-dials and calls Tina instead. He doesn't even remember pulling the phone out of his pocket. But then the line rings once, twice before his phone is connected to another voice. A sweet and cheerful "Hello, Trevor Project, would you like to talk?" carries through the speaker. Kurt doesn't know whether to sigh or cry because, god he would love to talk but how can he even begin? How can he list his failures out loud to a stranger? How can he allow himself to break like this? When did he become such a coward that he couldn't face his demons alone anymore? He had reached the point of no return without consciously knowing it.

He doesn't realize he's started crying until the voice is back in his ear again, soothing "Shh shh tell me what you need. Can you tell me what you need?"

It's so caring and it makes Kurt cry even harder because he needs this, he needs someone to care. It's been so long since anyone has cared and here a total stranger is willing to listen, to care. It hurts more than he knew it had, the fact that no one was there for him.

The second time he calls, Kurt had just gotten shoved into a locker so hard he saw stars for more than a few minutes. He doesn't talk, he just listens. A cheerful hello before he starts to cry. He can't talk to any of them, no matter how willing they are to listen. So he sits in a corner, one hand wrapped protectively around himself and the other clutched to his life-line. Not one of his friends bothers to check up on him, none of his teachers notice he's missing, and by the time he walks through his front door an hour later the smile plastered on his face covers up any signs of how truly broken he is.

The last time, he knows it's the final straw. A face full of slushie right before fifth period caused him to fail his French test and when he'd try to explain it to Madame she shrugged it off. It didn't matter that his hair was still matted with red ice, if no one saw it, it didn't happen. Glee practice had been awful as usual. Mr. Schue once again wanted them to do a number that no one had listened to since the seventies. When Kurt had tried to explain this, Schue went off on him, saying that not everything needed to be fabulous and sparkled with glitter. Hurt, he had looked to his friends for help but found none.

That was when he realized it wasn't worth it anymore. He wasn't going to get into a college in New York, he wasn't going to find someone who would always be on his side, and he was always going to be a Lima loser. He was alone and no one cared. So he left school early and drove him, white knuckles gripping the wheel. When he shut himself in the bathroom he dug through the cabinets until the yellow bottle he was looking for presented itself. "_Burt Hummel_, _PERCOCET 10 mg/325 mg DO NOT EXCEED 6 TABLETS PER 24 HOURS_". Kurt dumped the contents into his hand and counted 12 little tablets. Just enough.

He knows he shouldn't do this, it isn't right. _What they do isn't right either._ He thinks bitterly to himself. Kurt closes his hand around the pills and hangs his head. He eyes trail over to his phone sitting on the counter. He's scared, he doesn't know what he's doing, and they could help. Help is something he's needed for a long time. With a shaking hand he grabs the phone and hits the dial, the last number he had called was a suicide hotline, how pathetic. The line rings twice before a panicked voice carries through the speaker.

"Kurt?" He barely hears it over the mixture of the blood pounding in his ears and his own ragged breathing.

"B-Blaine?" He manages as he tries to steady himself by gripping one hand on the bathroom counter.  
>Oh god, he had talked to Blaine last night to make sure he had gotten home okay. The same wonderful Blaine who he had met weeks ago at Dalton Academy, where everything was perfect. This was someone he barely knew yet Blaine somehow knew everything Kurt was thinking whenever they were together. The light touches on his shoulder paired with a small smile, he cared.<p>

"Kurt, what's going on? Are you okay?" Blaine sounds out of breath, like he ran out of class to answer his phone. Kurt can hear keys in the background.

Everyone has asked that at some point but Kurt always managed to throw on a smile and shake it off. This was different. Blaine, a boy he was just getting to know, was presumably jumping in his car this very minute to make sure Kurt was okay. Because no one calls a friend at noon on a Wednesday if he's okay. He still has the thoughts running through his head, the thoughts he's so scared of. It's all too much to take in; the fact that he even called this number, that he's so embarrassed to be sobbing on the phone right now, and the sad truth that he needed help. He really needed help.

"H-help, I need help. I d-don't know what t-to do." He hasn't been thinking right lately. What is he doing, crying over the phone to Blaine? No one needed to hear his problems. He stared at the pills in his hand, wondering.

"Kurt, are you hurt? Where are you? Talk to me." Blaine's voice brought him back and he blinked.

It hit him full force then and a sob wracked his body as he slid down onto the tile of the bathroom floor. "God, Blaine. They're so small but they could do so much. I don't want to, I don't but…" He trailed off, slamming his head against the wall. "It's too much, Blaine. I swore they wouldn't break me. I swore, I swore. But they did. It just isn't worth it anymore." He had thought about it so many times, more times than he had realized. He thought about accidently letting go of his steering wheel, or using the kitchen knife for something other than chopping lettuce, or leaving the oven on just a little bit too long when he was alone on Saturday afternoons. He had been able to shake the thoughts from his head then, he was better than that. Kurt Hummel let everything roll right off his back. Not this time. This time it was too much to bear.

"I need you to listen to me. Okay, Kurt?" He hiccupped and tried to slow his tears. "I'm on my way right now, okay? I'm coming to help you."

And just like that Kurt was sobbing all over again. How had he let it get this bad? How had he not told anyone before now? Because he wasn't worth it. He was just the gay kid who would wind up a Lima loser for the rest of his life. His life wasn't worth anything.

"Kurt, Kurt, listen." Blaine tried to break through the sobs echoing through the phone. "You are going to be okay. You just need to talk to me. You have to help me help you."

Kurt understood. He could feel Blaine's compassion seeping through the speakers, like he too had experienced this same fate and had turned out alright. _Maybe he was broken too but it didn't matter because broken things can be put back together again in time._

"Home, I'm at home." His voice is still thick with tears but he has less trouble getting the words out.

"I'll be there soon. Just… talk to me, okay?"

So Kurt talked. He told Blaine about the bullies who continue to shove him and call him names, about the apathetic teachers, and all of his lost opportunities just because he didn't fit in to the oh-so-high standards of god forsaken Lima, Ohio. He voiced his dreams of moving to New York and taking Broadway by storm when graduated at the end of the year. How he would show everyone in Lima that he was something, that he was special, that he was better than them.

Then he listened as Blaine talked him down from his anger and anxiety. Soon he was sitting on the edge of the tub, still shaking but relaxed enough to let out small teary laughs at the dorky things Blaine said. It didn't matter that they had just met a couple of months ago, what mattered was that Blaine knew what he was feeling. Blaine cared.

Before he knew it, Blaine was walking through the bathroom door, tie pulled loose and his phone snapping shut in his hand. Kurt felt him pry his fist open and brush the pills to the floor before sitting next to him.

"Come here." Blaine whispered, pulling him into a hug.

Kurt let his shoulders relax and dropped his head onto Blaine's chest. He smiled as he felt Blaine softly thread his fingers through Kurt's hair.

"Thank you." Kurt said, tears threatening to spill over again.

"I will always be here for you, Kurt. No matter what." He hugged him tighter.


End file.
